Almost Not Quite Maybe
by Reichenbach
Summary: An accident on an alien planet leaves Jack and the Doctor as…roommates, as it were. Jack’s solution? Naughtiness with Rose.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Almost (1/1)  
**Author: **moi  
**Rating: **R  
**Characters:** Jack, Rose, Ninth Doctor

**Spoilers: **Everything through The Doctor Dances  
**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimers apply They're like little dolls you can dress up and play with, but I always put my toys back when I'm done.  
**Archive: **Feel free, just drop me a line so I know (my ego is like that)  
**Beta:** Thanks to darkbunnyrabbit for the read through. Hasn't been beta'd for real tho, so all mistakes are mine. I had postitus.

XYZ

"This is a temporary situation."

"I'm not saying it's not, Doc. I'm just saying… Live a little."

Sighing, the Doctor turned away from the bed upon which Jack Harkness' body lay, inert, pale, a bit on the scorched side around the temples. Turning back to the readouts, the Doctor grabbed the bridge of his nose, hoping for some kind of good news. "Just…don't get any ideas."

The lights in the medical bay seemed particularly harsh just then, and the Doctor closed his eyes against it, trying to stave off the inevitable headache.

"What? You're a hot guy, I'm a hot guy, Rose is a hot--"

The Doctor's groan of frustration cut him off. "Just don't, Jack. This is a temporary situation. The fact that you have any control over me, or of my body is…is a TEMPORARY situation."

"I'm just saying…"

The door behind him slid opened, and he didn't have a chance to say anything further. Trying to be as encouraging and hopeful as possible, he turned around, a nonchalant smile across his lips. "Rose."

She had a mug of tea in each hand. Crossing the long room in front of Jack's bed, she never took her eyes off of him. "Any change at all?"

Taking the mug, he looked to the motionless body in the bed. "Still waitin' on a few results. He's all there, we just need to figure out how to…" get him back together. "Wake him up." Trying to be as calm and reassuring as possible, he drank the tea at an even pace—not too slowly, not too fast. He tried not to glance at her to judge her reaction too many times…

He was blocking Jack from his mind, but it was very easy to imagine what Jack was thinking. Just go ahead and tell her. No harm in it, things like this happen all the time.

But somehow the Doctor just couldn't. How was that conversation going to go? By the way, Rose, Jack and I are sharing a single body. Indefinitely. That alright with you?

No. He needed to just send her on her way without arousing suspicion. This meant doing it as casually as possible. "I'll figure it out, Rose. He'll be fine in just a bit, you'll see."

Sighing, Rose sat on the edge of the bed, absently brushing the hair from Jack's forehead. "I still don't understand what happened. We were running one moment, and then everything rumbled…there was this beam of light, and then he just… collapsed."

And of course, the Doctor really hated seeing her so…broken up. Putting a hand on her shoulder he tried to be…supportive. Or something. "The beam mucked with his consciousness. There're a lot of things that can do that, but this is a bit different. Mostly we just need to figure out how to wake up sleeping beauty."

XYZ

With a half smile, Rose leaned over and kissed Jack's cool lips.

"Oh that is SO not fair!" the Doctor chirped suddenly.

Her mouth rested on Jack's for a moment, then she pulled away. "Well, it was worth a shot," she muttered, turning back to the Doctor. "And what's with you, then? Jealous? Jealous that Jack gets to play Sleeping Beauty, or that you don't get to play Prince Charming?" It was all she could do not to laugh at him outright—which was a welcome change from worry for Jack and guilt that she'd somehow landed him in this spot.

"Yes!" he gushed, arms flailing, failing to elaborate further.

Rose looked at him like was nuts. "Ri-ight." Standing, took the empty cup from his hands. "Why don't you have a sit down for a minute or two? I mean, you've been in here all night with him. I'll sit with him, and you can have a few minutes." She'd never suggest taking a nap to Mr. Superior Constitution who didn't need to sleep as much as the pathetic little apes that he travelled with, but he was probably knackered.

The Doctor took a step forward, towards her, but then he hesitated and almost backed off again. "No, I'd better keep working on… no, wait, you're right. And why don't you walk me to my--" The Doctor's face contorted in semi-anguish. "Dammit, Jack!"

Rose stood, wondering what was up with the Doctor now. "What?"

The Doctor's lips pressed together and he breathed in and out through his nose, passing air like a bellows. It looked like he was trying to calm himself, but his blue eyes were icy with anger. "I think," he began very calmly, "that I need to just work on this. I'm very close. And I think…I just need some time alone to do it. Why don't you go to bed?"

The last was said so softly that she forgot to be offended that she was being blown off, especially when his hand cupped her cheek so gently. She put her hand on his arm, sliding it up his jacket. "Just take a break, if you need to. It's been…more than twenty four hours." She'd never actually seen him sleep, but he needed to rest and recharge at least, didn't he? "I'll stop buggin' ya. But I'm comin' back in the morning with food, and you're going to eat it, and let me sit with Jack for a couple of minutes."

When she wrapped her arm around him and gave a quick half hug, he sighed again. "Thank you. Hopefully we'll have this wrapped up by then. Go on."

XYZ

It was a good ten minutes before the Doctor dared to return to work. He simply stared quietly at Jack's body, thinking of how bloody…good it would be to be alone in his own again.

Turning back to monitors and readouts, the Doctor began looking for a way to get Jack back into his own little meat puppet. There were a handful of illegal devices that could do something similar to this, but nothing exactly like what Rose had described, or what he'd experienced.

"You know, you take all the fun right outta life. Straight out."

Once he had this sorted out, the Doctor decided he was going to take them into the Vortex, open the front door, and push Jack out. "Jack, can we please just leave out the…adolescent antics. Please. Just this once."

Even as someone whose accent and voice changed with each regeneration, it was still disconcerting to hear Jack's inflections coming out of his own mouth. It would have been easier (he supposed) not to block Jack's consciousness from his mind—then the Time Agent wouldn't have needed to temporarily usurp the Doctor's vocal cords to make his wishes known. But the Doctor wasn't letting ANYONE inside his mind, most especially not Jack. "Ok, fine. Whatever."

The Doctor sighed. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Carry on, as you were. Get me back into my own body, ASAP, so that I can watch you two be pathetic from afar, as opposed to close up and personal."

Flipping through some more data on one of the screens the Doctor shook his head. "Anything that goes on—or doesn't go on between me an' Rose is just that—between me an' Rose. Now just behave yourself while I try to transpose this wave signature into something in a useable range."

And the Doctor had a few moments' peace to do some rather complicated block math. He knew it wouldn't last, so he tried to make the most of it while it did.

He really needed to have this solved before Rose came back.

XYZ

Ever so slowly, Jack reached down and untied the foreign boots and slid them off. It wouldn't do to make noise while attempting this. Next he yanked on the heavy boot socks and tucked them inside the shoes (worse still to end up being a naked man wearing socks—that just wasn't hot), trying to wipe the grin off of his borrowed face. That would give the game away before they'd even begun. The Doctor just didn't grin like that. Not like he was about to do something completely naughty.

He was doing it for the old codger's good, after all. It wasn't like Snooty, Alien, and Grumpy would ever get off his ass and go for it. So he was…helping. He'd get the Doctor's foot in the door, as it were, going straight past that annoying part whereby the Doctor would fluster and flummox and fail to make his feeling, much less his intentions known.

They had a word for people like the Doctor in the fifty-first century; it was called PATHETIC. Oh, the Doctor was a lot of things. A genius, to be sure. A myth, a warrior, a legend, a better than Jack could ever hope to be, a mentor, a friend, mechanic, barber, scientist and part-time plumber.

But he had absolutely no idea what to do about this one little aspect of his life. And it just so happened to be an area that Jack was quite good with. If anything—Jack should be charging for his services, really.

Walking quietly down the all, he tried to be as smooth an quiet as possible, so as not to wake his host, who'd drifted off in the middle of scribbling some rather complex computations on what looked like a Post-It note. Jack was in awe of the Doctor, but he also knew the man's limitations. Which was why, as a friend, he was doing this. For he Doctor's own good, really. The Doctor would thank him for it later.

Or push him out the front door and into the Vortex, that also seemed like a distinct possibility, knowing the Doctor's many moods. Well, he only had a few that he cycled between, really. Annoyance, amusement, manic humor and seething anger. Jack had a feeling he'd either end up with annoyance or possibly the seething anger.

Jack decided to take the moral high ground on this one, however. Saying if he, uh, happened to become one with the Vortex because he was trying to help out a friend…then it was just the type of sacrifice he was happy to make.

And, really, there was some excellent stuff to be had, before that whole sacrifice thingy.

So all he had to do was…"Jack just what he hell do you think you're doing?"

SOMEBODY was awake. "Something that should have happened a long time ago, Doc. Relax. You'll like it." Trying to swallow back he Doctor's will, he knocked on Rose's door.

"You're despicable. As if she'd ever--"

Jack grinned merrily. "Would and will. And you'd love me less if I weren't."

The door slid opened. Rose looked tired, like she should be asleep—was trying to sleep—but just couldn't. Her hair was mashed around and her eyelids drooped, and when she looked up, she let out a yawn. "Doctor? Is Jack ok?"

Don't grin like you just ate the canary, Jack warned himself. The Doctor had a manic, dopy grin. He had to somehow… fake that. "Uh…" And the accent. How did the Doctor talk, exactly? Besides talking like a smarmy-assed alien. "Everything's coming along just fine. I wanted to see if…"

He felt the Doctor trying to reassert control. Why was he even allowed to go on that long, Jack wondered?

Rose cocked her head slightly. She certainly had being adorable down to a science. "Yeah?"

Swallowing down the Doctor clawing at Jack's consciousness, practically trying to force him out of the body (obviously not caring that he couldn't quite get back into his own body right now), Jack decided to hell with it, and he just went for it.

Grabbing her forearms just below where the sleeves of her girl-cut nightshirt ended, he crushed the Doctor's lips up against Rose's, trying to fight back a self-satisfied chuckle. The Doctor could take over now and run away and hide, or blame Jack, but what had been done was done.

Though he kind of doubted the Doctor would raise quite a fuss now—not with the way Rose was kissing back. And especially not with her tongue down his…

XYZ

The Doctor knew he should be fighting this. Or pushing Jack out of his head, or explaining it to Rose or…something. But those plush, soft lips prevented him from thinking about… well, anything really. Lips like that could make a person forget his own name…

Especially when Rose's hands came up to grab the sleeves of his jacket and she began wandering backward, toward her bed.

Wrong, wrong wrong…so very wrong… So very…

She leaned backward onto the mattress, taking him with her.

He wasn't sure if he should thank Jack or just go kill him right now. All it would take was a pillow over the face…

He felt his fingers trailing down Rose's arm, but it wasn't him doing it…no matter how much he wished that it was. But he'd never have the…audacity (maybe courage) to do this. And if that were the case, he'd never feel her tongue against his teeth, the warm breath coming out of her nose against his cheek…or the way her body melted under his. Or his own personal…reaction.

The kiss shifted suddenly as she smiled, feeling his….reaction. Yeah. He'd just call it that.

His arms slid under her, and a moment later, his lips were on Rose's neck. When he heard her moan, then felt her hands running through his stubbled hair, he objectively had to admire Jack—he was quite good at this.

Fingers sliding down her back, past the waist band of her silky pajama bottoms, he felt a jolt of excitement when he encountered nothing but bare flesh. Cupping her bottom, his head turned, apparently to equalize the attention to both sides of her neck.

Before his lips made contact, however, an entirely different kind of jolt went through him—a trademarked Tyler slap. "Ow!" He wasn't sure if that was him or Jack crying out and holding his cheek in protest as he sat up.

See, he wanted to tell Jack. He should have known. Rose had come to her senses. She'd realized that he was taking advantage of their friendship and closeness…

Her rich brown eyes were on fire, and it looked like smoke would come pouring out of her button nose at any moment. Sliding her elbows beneath her, she sat up and glared fiercely at him. "Jack Harkness, I don't know HOW you did it, but you get out of the Doctor's body, RIGHT THIS MINUTE!"

THE END.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Not Quite (Sequel to Almost)

Author: moi

Rating: PG

Characters: Jack, Rose, Ninth Doctor, Jackie

Spoilers: Everything through The Doctor Dances

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply They're like little dolls you can dress up and play with, but I always put my toys back when I'm done.

Archive: Feel free, just drop me a line so I know (my ego is like that)

Beta: Thanks to Rosesbud for betaing awesomes

Summary: An accident on an alien planet leaves Jack and the Doctor as…roommates, as it were. And quite frankly…Rose has had enough.

XYZ

"Well, this can't go on," Rose said, sitting back in the jump chair, feet on the console. She began munching on her thumbnail shortly thereafter, refusing to look at the Doctor. "I'm not travellin' with…you. This. Him. All in there." She knew she was making absolutely no sense. But this… really was unprecedented. And she said this as a girl who'd seen the sun expand and lived in a trans-dimensional police box. "I mean, I don't know which one I'm talking to at any given moment and and… Jack, you dirty lousy stinkin' pervert!"

The Doctor winced, ducking his head. "Don't hit me again. I fell asleep, I had NO IDEA what he was up to."

Hands coming to rest on his hips Rose saw the immediate change in demeanor and voice. "Like hell. He didn't exactly stop me, either."

Rose watched the Doctor have some kind of fit that looked like a nervous breakdown as he wrestled control from the other inhabitant of his body. His hands clenched then reached upward, like he was going to strangle somebody, possibly himself, and he held his breath, head twitching back and forth for a moment. "Jack, shut the hell up. He doesn't know what he's talking about. You don't need to leave. I'm going to find a way to get him out of here, even if it means killing him."

"Hey!"

Rose found that she'd gone from biting her thumbnail to sucking on it. "Boys!" she interrupted as the Doctor drew breath again to rail against himself. "This is makin' my head hurt. So just… figure it out amongst yourselves. I'm going back to bed, and…and then I'm going to visit my mum. I'm going to wash some clothes, find out what's happening on the soaps, ask mum about her latest flame, eat all her biscuits and search for that one CD I keep leaving there. What you two…gentlemen…do in the interim is up to you. All I know is that neither of you better bother me until this is sorted."

She marched back to her room, satisfied that she'd made herself perfectly clear. She wasn't going to deal with that kind of…childishness. Not when she'd spent nearly two days half-worried out of her mind over Jack…all because the Doctor was too proud to admit he had a… guest in his skull. And then Jack tries to…

As soon as he was awake, she was going to slap him again. It was one thing for Jack to flirt with her. It was one thing for Jack to kiss her. But it was something else entirely when Jack started…using the Doctor as some kind of… love puppet. That was just… getting a free shag under false pretenses.

Crawling back under the covers, she sighed, turning off the light. And what of the Doctor? He protested his little hearts out… which was a tad insulting.

Alright, object lesson learned—it had been rude of her to imply he wasn't… a man. Or a good looking one, back when they'd first met Jack. But really—was she such a disgusting ape that he wouldn't even… you know? But then again… Jack had said the Doctor hadn't exactly made a fuss.

Clenching her eyes shut she forcefully rolled over, shoving the pillow under her head just a little harder. Some days she felt like she understood him completely. Some days… Women were from Earth. Time Lords were from…well, wherever they were from. His ways were not her ways, and things that she might be inclined to interpret in a certain manner may not actually be the manner in which they were intended.

Or they could be spot on.

Either way—she just couldn't be…in the middle of the Jack-Doctor internal struggle-fest any longer. And she was running out of clean clothes. She feared the TARDIS laundry facilities (and couldn't figure them out, but that was beside the point) so her mum's front loader was just the thing to cure her clothing ills.

XYZ

Hand on the doorknob of her mother's front door Rose turned around, glaring at the Doctor. Well, not the Doctor specifically, it was just… in order to glare at Jack, it was necessary to glare at the Doctor. "I don't know why you insist on coming with me."

With a self-satisfied grin that she couldn't place as being the Doctor's or Jack's, the Doctor hoisted an over-stuffed red bag. "Did you really want to carry this all by yourself?"

Turning the handle, Rose slowly opened the door of her mother's flat. "Jack… I appreciate the chivalry." She had to work a bit to swallow back her exasperation. "But I wish you two would just… get yourself sorted." She called out to her mum, announcing her presence.

"Geeze…try to help out a friend…"

Her mother responded from the kitchen, asking who Rose had brought with her. The sink turned on then off and she heard the sounds of her mother clearing something away.

"Nobody needs your kind of help," the Doctor responded to Jack in a harsh whisper.

Rose glared at the Doctor again, then shooed him away, towards the door. "Go. I'm not explaining this to my mother."

Then she heard Jackie's voice, loud and clear and…in the same room. "Not explaining WHAT to your mother?"

Rose turned around quickly, stepping between her mum and the Doctor. Think, think… "That the Doctor was actually being helpful and carrying my things for me. Figured you'd start checking for alien spores, if he appeared too pleasant or helpful." Teeth grinding together, she turned back to her 'favourite" pair of people. "But they were just leaving, weren't they?" Oh bugger. Had she just said that?

"They?" Her mother asked. "Is that like the royal we?" She took the bag from the Doctor, looking him over suspiciously. "And what's with this only coming to see me when you are out of clean clothes? Don't you have a washing machine on that fancy ship of yours?"

There was a twinkle in those blue eyes and Rose had a feeling whatever was about to come out of the Doctor's mouth would be…motivated by Jack. She glared at the Doctor like an angry parent, making a gesture behind her mother's back for him to just zip his lips.

They were both just… so dead when this was over. Both of them. Neither of them could just…behave for five minutes. It was like when she used to baby-sit those twin boys a few floors down. They were just a force of nature.

The Doctor looked very odd with Jack's Grin of Impossible Charm upon his face. Creepy, even. "Well, you know…" He picked up Jackie's free hand. "It's just so lovely to see you again…" Jack did a really lousy impression of the Doctor. "How's about we let Rose get on with her laundry. We can…go out to lunch…or something." Lips hovering over her hand, he almost kissed her, before she tugged free then slapped him one.

Holding his cheek the Doctor asked Jackie what that had been for.

Her eyes narrowed. "What the hell did you think it was for?"

Rose wondered if there was a hole she could crawl into. And die there. Sliding between her mother and the Doctor, she put both hands on his chest, her eyes shooting daggers, laser bolts and those stars that ninjas threw(LOL! – no correction, just commenting!). "Just get out. Get out before I do something we'll all regret."

XYZ

It was dark outside now; it had taken that long to explain everything to her mother. Well, not everything. She left out the whole part were Jack tried to….ugh. It wasn't so much that it made her feel dirty as it made her feel… a little squick. Not the way she'd imagined a threesome with…

Oh God. She couldn't believe she'd just thought even half of that.

Her mum took the empty plate dotted with chocolaty crumbs away from the table. "Something wrong, dear?"

Rose came back to the then and there. "Oh nothing. Just wondering if I'm going to go back to the TARDIS and find a bloodbath, or both of them watching the Lion King again or something. It's just been…bizarre in the TARDIS lately. Like a farce. Doors opening and slamming and everything."

Jackie sat back down, patting her daughter's hand. "Maybe you should just stay here, then. If they can't get themselves figured out."

Oh, like that was an option. Oh no, they'd get themselves sorted if she had to…beat both of them into thinking up an answer. Lord, that sounded…wrong. She meant… she'd whip them into…

Rose drained the rest of her cup. It was her tenth cup of tea (so it seemed, at least) so she excused herself from the kitchen table. "All that liquid hasta go somewhere," she explained.

As she was finishing, she heard the front door open. Then there was her mother's muffled squeals and the Doctor's low tones. Great…it begins again.

While she was in the bathroom she pulled her hair clip off, gathered her hair back up and twisted it, reclipping it so that those annoying bits that had come loose weren't tickling her ears any more. She reapplied her mascara and lip gloss, sniffed her mother's new shampoo and fixed the collar of her button-down blue shirt (that's how she knew the laundry plight was tough—she was reduced to wearing 'good' clothes).

Was she hiding in the bathroom?

Yes, she was hiding in the bathroom.

Well, she'd faced a Dalek and an evil skin tack. She could take on an annoying Time Lord cohabitating in the same body as an annoying Time Agent. Drawing in a steadying breath, she opened the bathroom door.

She took one step towards the kitchen then stopped. "Gunna look in my room for something!" she called out to her mother, ducking across the hall, into the relative safety of her violently pink bedroom, and sat down on the bed and stared at the carpet, hands folded in her lap.

Men were the same all over. Didn't matter if they were from another flat on the Powell Estate, the fifty-first century, or wherever it was that Time Lords came from. They were all little boys. She'd heard girls with boyfriends and married women say that for years and hadn't believed it…or perhaps really understood what it meant. Now that she really got it…she wondered how she could reconcile that fact with her existence and live with it. How did women live with men being so…male?

She needed chocolate or something. Chocolate ice cream with chunks of chocolate in it. Dark chocolate. It was the only thing that could make this better. Men were…male and only chocolate could fix that, somehow. Or at least somehow dull the pain of living with two men stuck in the same body being irritating and annoying all the time.

The door opened, flooding the dark room with light from the hall. "This a private pity party?"

She looked up at the silhouette of the Doctor, hand on the door knob, jacket swinging open. And she needed chocolate because the Doctor was so…when he was standing there like that. "Dunno. You didn't RSVP. So. Are we alone yet?"

He closed the door behind him (TOTALLY inappropriate, she knew, but really—some conversations really didn't need to involve her mother) and turned on the nearest lamp. "Yes, Jack has been safely relegated back to his own body. You can thank my brilliant brain for that."

Rose let out a sigh of relief. "I don't think I could have taken another minute of you two going at it—I mean… never mind."

The Doctor sat next to her on the bed. "I can't tell you how relieved I am. Relieved to the…relieve-eth power relieved."

A single bursting chuckle escaped Rose's lips. "I don't think I learned about that when they were covering maths in school. Relieved to the relieve-eth power."

The Doctor nudged her. "New-new-new maths. If you multiply by a hand of bananas and subtract half a cup of coffee, you get the type of hell I'm going to put Jack through once we escape the gravitational force of your mother's shining personality."

"Speaking of which…where is Jack?" Rose asked with moderate alarm—she was learning to trust those bad feelings she sometimes got when the Doctor was involved.

The Doctor absently looked around the girly-girl room "Apologising profusely to your mother."

The front door creaked open then clicked closed softly in the distance, the sound muffled by the bedroom door. The two occupants of the bedroom glanced at each other with wide eyes. Rose opened the bedroom door. "Mum?" she called out cautiously. "Mum?"

Glancing back at the Doctor, they both seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for an answer. Nothing was forthcoming.

The Doctor got to his feet, joining Rose, resting his hand on the small of her back. "Jack?"

Silence. Once again their eyes met, this time for only a second. They both scrambled though the now-empty flat and to the front door. Practically falling through the threshold Rose groaned. "I can't believe he did that."

Leaning against the door frame, the Doctor folded his arms over his chest. "He's Jack."

The moan Rose let out turned very quickly into a whimpery squeal. "And my mum is my mum." She rubbed her cheek. "God. I hate both of them." Maybe she could drown herself in a warm vat of chocolate. It would be a blissful way to go.

Putting an arm around her, the Doctor squeezed, a contented and slightly mischievous smile spreading across his lips. "And somehow, in some twisted universal balancing act kind of way… they deserve each other."

That time Rose DID whimper, but hugged him back. "This is so not fair."

THE END


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Maybe (Sequel to Almost and Not Quite)

Author: moi

Rating: PG-13 (fluff)

Characters: Jack, Rose, Ninth Doctor

Spoilers: Everything through The Doctor Dances

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply They're like little dolls you can dress up and play with, but I always put my toys back when I'm done.

Archive: Feel free, just drop me a line so I know (my ego is like that)

Beta: Thanks to Rosesbud for beta-ness

Summary: Jack returns from an evening out with Rose's mother to a very…disorderly TARDIS. Have his attempts to break the Rose/Doctor stalemate finally worked?

Maybe

It was almost three in the morning, local time, when Jack staggered back toward the TARDIS, parked on the far end of the Powell Estate. He hummed quietly to himself some jaunty tune he'd heard four times that evening. He didn't know it was possible to have quite that much fun in the twenty-first century. Pubs, pub brawls, dancing, dancing and dancing…

Looking up at the few stars bright enough to twinkle past the city lights, Jack laughed to himself. He really needed to have stopped about four drinks before he did. It was why he was still drunk, well after leaving Jackie Tyler at her door.

Turning his TARDIS key in the lock, the former Time Agent tried to contain himself. He was probably coming back into a veritable shit-storm, knowing how much of a killjoy the Doctor had been lately. It wouldn't do to come back into the ship appearing to be as jovial and contented with his lot in life as he happened to be at the moment. He'd had dinner with some really good company, the steak had been amazing—made out of real cow and everything (he could learn to love this century)! And he'd also happened to have fantastic sex, light conversation and more beer afterward. He HAD to walk into a shit-storm, it was the only way to maintain balance in the universe, considering how much fun today had been.

Still quite buzzed, Jack had to look around the control room twice. It was empty. Well, that was a disappointment. He figured the Doctor would be standing at the door, glaring at him like an angry mother, asking if he knew what time it was.

Shrugging, he stripped off his coat, walking it over to the coat rack. It was important to be neat and tidy. Otherwise the Doctor'd bitch him out. Didn't want that.

Swishing his hips like that girl on the dance floor tonight, Jack had to laugh before humming that song again. You could go mad from it, it was so blissfully repetitive and the lyrics were so juvenile and banal. He completely needed a copy on his wrist computer.

Swinging his backside away from the coat rack, he tried to remember the lyrics—something to do with cars or socks or something…Booties. So intent on remembering what it was about the booties and what they were doing, Jack got his boot tangled in something, in the doorway of the control room. Looking down, he saw something dark and leathery at his feet.

Curious, he kicked it up into his hands. The Doctor's jacket?

Ok.

A step later, he almost stumbled on the sonic screwdriver in his drunken curiosity. Totally should have stopped four beers ago. But he was fascinated with the lime in the neck of the bottle.

Bottle…booties… Maybe they'd been singing about shaking bottles. But then that would make them fizz up and explode. This time was awesome. He loved everybody and everything in it—or at least he would until he pissed out the majority of the alcohol and some measure of sobriety returned.

But he seriously, seriously loved Jackie Tyler. The woman could drink, first of all. Second of all, she could talk. She told him all about the one show where everybody was doing everybody else, and this other show, something with crownings and stuff. He'd remember tomorrow when he was sober. Anyway it sounded fascinating. Jack decided to retire to this time and just watch television all the time. With Jackie Tyler.

A blurt of laughter escaped him as he regarded the jacket and screwdriver. Oh that'd burn the Doctor's rubber. 'Doc, I've decided to take some time off. I'm going to eat beans on toast and watch television with Jackie Tyler.'

Really. He didn't understand the…unpleasant regard that he had for Jackie Tyler. He completely loved the woman. She was so gloriously blunt. Told him exactly what she thought about the Doctor, which had taken up an entire half hour at the pub. Laughed at his stories that either ended or began with him naked and in public. She insisted that he was having her on, but she still listened on.

Well, this was interesting. Even more interesting than when Jackie got onto her mobile phone and called some friends over, since they were having such a good time. Ok, maybe not that interesting.

But it was Rose's white jacket. Laying there on the floor, about half way down the corridor.

Obviously the coat rack was alive or something and had rejected Rose and the Doctor's jackets. Of course, if that was the case, why was the Doctor's green jumper laying in the T junction at the end of the hallway, crumpled, inside-out and looking twisted and out-of-shape.

He followed the breadcrumb trail down the hallway, trying not to giggle himself silly with drunken giddy glee. See? He was made almost entirely out of awesomes. All those two needed was a little prodding. The Doctor absolutely could not space him, or lecture him to death after this. Not when he now had in his arms two coats, the Doctor's jumper, Rose's hoodie, an adorable pink t-shirt, a Rose-sized pair of jeans and the prize—the most adorable purple thong and bra set he'd seen in two hours. He was out of hands for that and ended up clutching it between his teeth.

A pair of boxers hung on the door knob of the main level broom closet (which, surprisingly, contained no brooms—in fact, he'd never actually seen a broom aboard the TARDIS). HAH. He knew that the Doctor was all about the boxers! He just looked like a boxers kind of guy. Jack could spot 'em a mile away. The blue background with the yellow rubber ducky pattern was surprising, however.

Quietly, he put his head to the door, the back of his hand bumping the dented knob. Just checking, he told himself. He heard frantic rustling, some giggling and the sound of something crashing followed by two sets of laughs.

Deciding to hold the clothes for ransom, Jack tiptoed off to his own room. He'd just had the best day ever. He'd gotten on the Doctor's nerves for a full twelve hours, had a lovely conversation with Jackie's mom about life, the universe and everything, met Jackie's boyfriend, Howard after she rung up some of her friends, including Rose's former best pal in the whole world, ate dinner (steak from an actual COW! These twenty-first century people didn't know how good they had it—in about two hundred years Bovine Plague was going to wipe out every last one of them), danced with some girl in shiny gold hot pants then had amazing steamy phone booth sex with the adorable, energetic and vivacious Shareen. He'd ended up meeting up at another pub with Jackie who'd looked as disheveled as he felt—apparently Howard had a fruit van…

Which was totally hot and would have beat out the phone booth except for the whole exhibitionist thing that came with doing the deed in a phone booth. After telling her about that, she took back not believing how all his stories could start or end with him being naked.

They'd laughed, had a few more drinks, walked back to her place, had still more drinks, and he'd staggered on back home, only to find out how completely effective his efforts on the Doctor's behalf had been.

Tossing the clothes on the floor next to his bed, Jack Harkness collapsed face down onto his pillow with a grin.

That mind transfer was the best five thousand credits he ever spent.

On the other side of the broom closet door, the Doctor and Rose leaned against each other almost collapsing in their entanglement on the floor, trying to swallow mutual laughter at the sound of Jack's struggles on the other side.

A fully clothed Rose Tyler had tears streaming down her face as she flicked the dial on the Twister board. They'd needed something to do in here while they were waiting for Jack, and they'd found this in a yellowed box in the piles of stuff that had built up in the rear of the room-sized closet. They might as well finish the game—she was winning.

Trying to reach under the Doctor's trouser-covered leg to get to the red dot almost had her in stitches—this was probably the most fun they'd had in a long time. He seemed to have loosened up enough to play a silly game, which was nice to see.

This was also quite frankly the best (and yet most practical) prank to ever be perpetrated in a time and space machine. She had nothing to compare it to, but she was certain of it—she'd bought naughty underthings just for the occasion.

Falling onto the mat, she tried to choke back another laugh. "OH, I quit. You just have better reach." Getting to her feet, she brushed dust off of her hands. "We're mean, heartless bastards," she informed the Doctor.

Also getting to his feet, the Doctor folded his arms across his chest. "It was the only thing we could do, Rose. Otherwise he'd be trying to inflict his brand of help upon us forever."

Listening hard, she was certain she could hear the rolling snort of Jack-snores. "And we're clear."

He followed her to the door, but slammed into her back when she tried the doorknob, and nothing happened. "This door doesn't lock from the inside," he pointed out, more curious than anything.

Rose turned around, gesturing with her hands for him to back up and stop invading her personal space. "You don't suppose he—nah. Well, come on then, sonic screwdriver it."

With an unnatural look of innocence on his face, the Doctor glanced to the back of the closet, at the mound of junk, scratching his neck. "I, uh, left that in the hall. It's a very convincing prop."

Rose sighed. "Because the only way you'd be parted from it or the jacket's over your dead body or…over mine. Yes, yes, I know. The jacket is your Linus-blanky and the sonic screwdriver is your grownup man-dummy."

The Doctor made a face but didn't respond. She was certain he'd level any number retaliatory insults against her messy room or inferior species in the morning. But really—he just needed a stuffed rabbit, and he'd be all set.

Raising her fist to pound on the door, she was stopped by the Doctor's hand grabbing her wrist. "Well, that'll ruin all of our hard work."

Stepping aside from the door, she crossed her arms, grabbing hold of her t-shirt covered biceps with a sigh. "I don't want to be in here all night."

Walking past her to the junk pile, the Doctor grinned and began digging through the mess—wiring, broken tennis rackets, rusted canned goods—the whole bit. "Oh, I should have us out in a jiff."

A jiff turned out to be until Jack had slept it off and opened the door for them the next morning. What he beheld… confused him.

The Doctor, was wearing his typical black trousers and a white t-shirt (the guy wore something under those boring jumpers? He'd never have guessed), leaning against a wall, asleep, Rose, snuggled up in his arms. She was swimming in his red jumper, also unconscious.

They were sitting on a Twister mat, which was actually the part that confused him. He got, as soon as he saw them dressed, that he'd been set up. Probably in an attempt to get him to stop trying to play intergalactic/interspecies matchmaker.

"Don't gawk," the Doctor said, startling him out of his thoughts. He was awake and looking awfully alert. "Sometimes a game of Twister is just a game of Twister."

Rose's sleepy eyes fluttered, eyelashes crusted with mascara. She blinked a few times, rubbed one side of her face then ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. It took a moment, but she glanced around at her surroundings, looking from the Doctor to Jack. "Locking people in places isn't nice."

Lips pursed, Jack put his hands on his hips. "Trying to trick me isn't very nice either."

Getting to her feet, Rose hugged the jumper around her tighter, obviously chilled. "Yeah, well…stay away from my mum." She waited for the Doctor to stand before leaning against him while the last of the tired haze left her. "I'll give this back once I'm showered and dressed in seven or eight layers of clothes."

Hand on her shoulder, the Doctor smiled indulgently. "No rush. I believe my green one is around here somewhere." Completely ignoring Jack, he guided a tired Rose out of the closet, gently nudging her in the direction of her bedroom, before stalking off to parts unknown, leaving Jack in the doorway of the vacated room.

Ok, fine. He'd lay off, if they were so adamant about getting him to leave them alone that they'd go to such elaborate pains to throw him off the…

Wait.

Stepping over the Twister mat (no telling where the hell that thing had been) he kicked a small box away from a scrap of magenta that had caught his eye. It was tucked in a crevasse between two metal covers for devices the Doctor probably didn't even have on the ship any more (it was easy to be a packrat when you had a near-infinite capacity for storage). The thing would have entirely escaped his notice, were it not the only brightly coloured thing in the room, besides the Twister mat.

Picking it up, his brow furrowed as he contemplated Rose's forgotten (yet obviously worn) soft cotton knickers.

Uhh huh.

THE END


End file.
